OLIVIA (leaving melodrama with a little laugh and coming down to him). Poor George! Did I frighten you rather?
GEORGE. You're so strange to-day. I don't understand you. You're not like the Olivia I know.
(They sit down on the sofa together.)
OLIVIA. Perhaps you don't know me very well after all.
GEORGE (affectionately). Oh, that's nonsense, old girl. You're just my Olivia.
OLIVIA. And yet it seemed as though I wasn't going to be your Olivia half an hour ago.
GEORGE (with a shudder). Don't talk about it. It doesn't bear thinking about. Well, thank Heaven that's over. Now we can get married again quietly and nobody will be any the wiser.
OLIVIA. Married again?
GEORGE. Yes, dear. As you—er—(he laughs uneasily) said just now, you are Mrs. Telworthy. Just for the moment. But we can soon put that right. My idea was to go up this evening and—er—make arrangements, and if you come up to-morrow morning, if we can manage it by then, we could get quietly married at a Registry Office, and—er—nobody any the wiser.
OLIVIA. Yes, I see. You want me to marry you at a Registry Office to-morrow?